Prologue

Dear Reader,

The story that is about to unfold is one that until recently I haven't thought about since it happened. In fact, if I must be honest, the entire matter seems foreign to me after all of these years. I never knew about her letters, not until after the incident. And I have kept myself from reading them until now. I doubt I will find much of consequence within their aged pages. But in the event that I do, you shall be the first to find out what they hold. Honestly, what sort of girlish follies would be interesting?

Eliza Morrow was not a girl I knew well in my years as a student at Hogwarts. She was a Hufflepuff and I a Slytherin. Our paths thus, rarely had reason to cross. From what I recall of her, she was petite and blond and a very quiet individual who kept to herself. I suppose in that manner we were somewhat alike. I could not tell you her most prized possession or even her least favorite book. I could however, tell you that she found it necessary to end her life. To be honest, early on in my life, that same thought crossed my mind several times. Perhaps she was the braver, actually going through with it. Had I gone through, perhaps I would not be in my present situation. But this story is not about me, not as I am now at least.

No this is Eliza's story. I would be foolish to try and deflect the focus onto myself. I was a miserable teenager and my story is rather typical of a bad home life. But Eliza, she was different. She had a sister and loving parents. I surmise it is true that you must watch out for the quiet ones.

Speaking of her sister, Alyssa, she and I were something akin to decent acquaintances, especially following the incident. She was a Ravenclaw and a very intelligent and studious girl. I wouldn't say she was worthy of a real conversation except that when the entire world was against me, she stood by me. Alyssa Morrow was a dying breed, a black sheep in a flock of expectations. It was she who helped me not lose my focus in those months following the untimely demise of her sister.

I would be an idiot and a fool to say Eliza's death did not affect me in some manner. I was fifteen and like most my age felt the world revolved around them. Yet, despite all of that I couldn't see how one girl whom I barely knew could be so changed by my very existence. Had the circumstances been different, I would possibly have been flattered.

Enough rambling, it is time you see for yourself the story and legacy of Eliza Morrow. Fear not, as you witness her story, so shall I relive these moments and some that I didn't know I was living at the time.

Respectfully signed and submitted to you,

Severus Snape